


neither near nor far (A Fairy Tale of Our Lives)

by thisbloodycat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, Awkward Tension, Dark, Deviates From Canon, Dysfunctional Family, Fairy Tale Elements, Family Secrets, Harry Potter Next Generation, Haunted Houses, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Next Generation, Next-Gen, No Promises No Lies, Prompt Fill, Ravenclaw Scorpius Malfoy, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 07:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19102777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbloodycat/pseuds/thisbloodycat
Summary: Let’s pretend this is a fairy tale and not the ghastly story it is. There is danger in the trodden track Scorpius walks along. They say wish-fulfillment might bring pleasure... but what if it won’t? What if itcan’t?





	neither near nor far (A Fairy Tale of Our Lives)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ID123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ID123/gifts).



> Based on prompts 1, 4 and 5 at [Next Gen Scenes: a Monthly Fest](https://nextgenmpscenes.tumblr.com/post/185345890664/nextgenmpscenes-it-is-time-here-are-the-first), June 2019. Tons of thanks to [MaesterChill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/pseuds/MaesterChill) for being my (temporary) beta—it was fun and it was great; cheers to you and no one else. If you find anything wrong, my fault, not hers! I had trouble keeping my fingers still. :)
> 
> For ID123, because I miss you and our talks. ♥
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.

_Once upon a time in a far, far away land, a prince was born. “At last!” exclaimed the queen, for there had been many attempts, none of them lived to see the sun._

_The prince lived in a castle far older than…_

Older than the fossils at the palaeontology collection in London’s Natural History Museum, if the book’s appearance was anything to go by. It must have been older than Baba Yaga herself. Its pages were yellowed and tattered, they crinkled as Scorpius turned them. He’d been to London last year with Al, to the museum. Scorpius had thought it was quite interesting; Al got bored so fast they ended up leaving, and far sooner than Scorpius hoped for. He didn’t even get to see the dinosaurs!

He kept reading, lost in thoughts, mostly about dinosaurs and fossils. Fossils were a wonderful thing, weren’t they? They lived through silt, mud, sand and time, they lasted forever. The prince in this book wouldn’t though, no prince does. Except perhaps the ones in fairy tales with their happily ever after.

 _He lived in times of joy and sadness, and that is more than most can say. He was clever as the devil and doubly as handsome, and his name was none other than Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy_.

Only this book was no fairy tale. It was about him and his deeds, pre-recorded before they happened. Scorpius had to give it some credit, at least bits of it were true: smart he was indeed, and enough to end up in Ravenclaw. Saying he was as handsome as the devil was quite a jump—but then again, hadn’t the devil been an angel once?

However, Scorpius was no prince. All he was was a pure-blood. 

His nan kept saying that was better than a half-blood, even though from his experiences he could tell half-bloods and Muggle-borns worked just as fine as pure-bloods at that whole being a wizard thing. And he certainly lived in no castle, unless his castle was his family’s manor. It was quite old. He once read it dated back to the eleventh century, back when the French invaded Britain.

Scorpius shuddered. All of a sudden, he felt very exposed and extremely vulnerable. When it came to haunted houses, the manor was not one he’d visit again. In fact he’d gladly visit none; scary things were scary. He first realised when he was eight. “She said it’s the manor,” he told father. “It must be—”

“You are making a scene over nothing,” his father said, expression calm but strict. He walked briskly through the rain, one of his hands pulling Scorpius behind him. Scorpius kept trying to nail his feet to the ground, to get father to pause and _listen_. It was a wasted effort, especially when dealing with someone older than your age times three.

“I saw someone by the—”

“You saw nothing. There was no one there for you to see,” his father chided him, sternly enough for Scorpius to insist, “I saw a _woman_! We’re not alone…”

His father stopped. He turned around, dropping to his knees in front of Scorpius. Mud sloshed up Father’s trousers, splattering the expensive cloth. Father would be even angrier when he noticed, he was always so neat, so elegant—both things Scorpius couldn’t manage, despite all his extensive trying.

“Listen to me, it’s all in there.” One of his fingers tapped Scorpius’ forehead. “You picture things that don’t exist. There was no one there.”

Scorpius frowned. “There was a woman!” His father was a hypocrite, he had seen her as well as Scorpius had.

“You saw nothing.” A complete hypocrite, yes, but often a very well-dressed one. “Repeat after me: I saw nothing.”

Scorpius blinked twice and said, “I saw nothing,” because Father’s fingers pressed his arms too hard, tight enough for pain to make a sudden appearance.

“There was no one there.”

“There was—” Scorpius bit his tongue until he tasted blood. Father clutched harder, the pain got deeper. “Ow,” Scorpius sobbed. “You’re hurting me…” 

Father let go of his arms, yet the thought remained in Scorpius’ mind: Father equals hypocrite equals _denier_. No one else believed Scorpius—not his nan, not even the house-elves, though nod they did. Scorpius obviously did believe himself for a while, but a while didn’t last long. In time he forgot too, that he’d been a witness to one of the uncanniest things he’d ever see: a ghost in his own garden, as the moon chased the sun out of the sky—never return!

Her words were both a blessing and a curse. Literally. _It’s the house, it’s the curse. One day you’ll regret who you are_. Sadly, that day came sooner than expected, considering his family’s far-fetched scruples and appalling ideals. Scorpius’ opinions meant nothing to them. It was plain and evident, as they always disregarded them.

“One day you’ll wed a lovely, charming and hopefully well-positioned lady,” Nan kept saying. All Scorpius could think back then was that he’d have to be forced into it. Girls were icky, boys were too, but as his father said, “That’s what is expected of you. Quit arguing.” 

Scorpius often blamed his age for their neglect—what was he but a tiny wee child trying to have relevant thoughts? That would change though, but much later.

_He grew up handsome and talented, lived a truly pampered life…_

Luckily though, the princess the book talked about wasn’t exactly a princess, and Scorpius wasn’t forced into a marriage he didn’t want. His father’s decision didn’t seem to agree with his, but Scorpius had foregone trust in daddy long ago—back when he was eight and found out that dad was, above all things, a phony deceitful bigot who tended to hurt people he didn’t want to hurt. Deception, cover-ups, all lies. There’s nothing there, it’s just a trick of the light.

But sometimes ghosts are real. Curses are too. They live nowhere but inside us. And sometimes… they come out.

 


End file.
